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Friday, November 23, 2012

The Church We Hope To See

I serve on the editorial board for the Connect Journal, the Journal of the ELCA Youth Ministry Network. The current issue is out on-line, viewable on the gorgeous ISSUU platform. The title of this issue: The Church We Hope to See.

Every step we take, every move we make, in organizing or
forwarding the mission of the church, either explicitly or implicitly expresses
in concrete form the church we hope to see. Although a strong vision of the
future may or may not drive our daily ministry, nevertheless what the church
does and says from day to day is just
so an expression of what the church hopes to see itself as in the future.

Once we come to this realization, we realize the extent to which
the present form of the church--or the past forms of the church as we remember
them--tend to drive our vision of the church we hope to see. The classic
cliché, "We've never done it that way before," is not just a description of how the church has been
in the past, or how we see the church in the present; it is also a prescription for how the church ought to
be in the future.

In other words, the church is almost exclusively driven by what
already is rather than what might be. The church re-actualizes what already is
rather than dwelling and visioning in possibility. When and if the church
considers hoped-for or preferred futures, it tends to extrapolate the future
from present realities, either in the negative--because we don't like the
church as it is now, we hope it won't be this way in the future--or more rarely
the positive--we like this part of the church now and hope it will be
strengthened.

By comparison, consider the gospel pericope for the 22nd Sunday
after Pentecost, Mark 10:46-52. Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind begger, knew
precisely the church he hoped to see. He hoped to see the kind of church that
could give him sight to see. In other words, Bartimaeus was wise enough to pray
not for the future of the church per se, but rather for the sight to see
anything at all. You can't see a church or hope for it if you yourself remain
blind.

His simple prayer has developed over the centuries into the
Jesus Prayer, a penitential prayer prayed by millions of Christians (especially
in the East) that offers a concrete vision of the church we hope for, as well
as a confession of who we are that blinds us from this vision. "Lord Jesus
Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." Bartimaeus hoped to see
Jesus, Son of David. He sought mercy and healing. Having received report from the
crowd that Jesus was calling him, he sprang up, threw off his cloak, and came
to Jesus. Upon receiving his sight, he made sure he kept Jesus in his sights by
following him.

What might this mean for our description of the church we hope
to see? For starters, it means listening to the thrum of the engine that has
driven the recovery of the eschatological imagination in 21st century theology:
the future is not something that we
are on the way to; instead, the future
is on the way to us. The future is coming to meet us in Christ. In this sense,
the church we hope to see is the church on the way to us in Christ.

I remember reading a column a few years back by Richard Bliese,
the president of Luther Seminary, that caught my attention, so much so that I
made one quote from it one of my "favorited" quotes on my Facebook
profile.

Reflecting on his return to the United States after 11 years
serving as a missionary in Germany, Zaire, and Rwanda, he wrote, "I once heard this
advice from a wise African missionary: In working with young people in
America, do not try to call them back to where they were, and do not try to
call them to where you are, as beautiful as that place might seem to you. You
must have the courage to go with them to a place that neither you nor they have
ever been before." (http://www.luthersem.edu/elerts/article.aspx?id=532)

There is much to commend this way of thinking. At the very
least, it opens up the possibility that the church of the future might be
beyond the imagining both of the church inviting young people into ministry, as
well as the young people themselves considering partnership with the church in
ministry. It confesses the temptations to continue church as it is, or to continue
life as it had been prior to an encounter with the church on a mission in God.
These are admirable and salutary. I recommend this kind of imagineering.

In the end, thought, it may not go far enough. The danger is
simple: the insight still implies there is something intrinsic to the tribe or
the missionary that will lead them into a new place one could have guessed
completely apart from God as future. It is still you, the missionary, together
with them, young people, on the way to somewhere.

The eschatological insight here is that the future is not our
preferred future, but God's future. It is God's future on the way to us, not
the other way around. This makes all the difference in the world. It means that
the question, "What is the church we hope to see?" is not only a
future-oriented question, but a matter of present realities. We are called to
live, as N.T. Wright felicitously expresses it, "from the future back into
the present."[1]
The church we hope for is standing right there in front of us, if only we have
eyes to see. The church we hope to see we entertain in faith when we cry out
with Bartimaeus, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on us."

Now everyone is going to want something concrete, right? Tell me
what this future coming from God looks like. Part of me wants to respond that
this future looks like Jesus. Another part of me wants to say that the future is God. Both of those answers, though
true, will sound too abstractly theological to some. I admit that I don't find
them to be so, because part of being open to God's future on the way to us is
to let go of some of our empty visions and false hopes. We are called, like
Bartimaeus, to plead for God's mercy in our blindness. Who knows what kind of
sight we'll have when Jesus heals us?

However, the concrete vision is actually implicit in the
eschatological insight. If the future is coming to us, then it is our reception
of God's future that is our concrete action in the world. And the model for
what this looks like is Christ's suffering love. Walter Brueggemann, in his
wonderful early work, Living Toward a
Vision: Biblical Reflections on Shalom, offers this quote, which summarizes
as well as anything written, the shape of the church we hope to see: "What
is it God has promised that the world does not know? Simply that which
separates the followers of Jesus from the slaves of this world--suffering love.
This little, seemingly powerless community is ordered and identified by its
practice of caring, transforming, empowering love of the towel and basin
variety."[2]

The church we hope to see is a church on its knees, washing
feet, praying under their breath, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have
mercy on me," all the while keeping their eyes focused on the one who has
given them sight--Jesus. Oh wait, I see, that means all the church is doing is
what they've already seen God's future in Jesus doing, because there he is, on
his knees, washing feet.

[1] "So the life into
which you are baptised and confirmed is the resurrection life, the
kings-and-priests life, the life lived from the future back into the present"
(N.T. Wright, a sermon for Easter Vigil, Living
in God's Future, http://ntwrightpage.com/sermons/EasterVigil09.htm).

2 comments:

"In other words, the church is almost exclusively driven by what already is rather than what might be... You can't see a church or hope for it if you yourself remain blind."

Imagine a Church exclusively driven by the Holy Spirit, working through the Faithful and the Successors of the Apostles, moving forward into the future in an orderly, unified way. "You are Peter, and upon this Rock, I build my Church."

Since no one else has yet commented, I will continue with a longer comment.

It is very obvious to an outsider that the ELCA is desperately searching for a solution to its present situation. I find some of the suggestions in this article, and their implications, very disturbing.

First, the Kingdom of Jesus is not of this world. You plainly state in your last paragraph that service is everything; the purpose of your new church is to serve. Now, I am sure you are hoping to appeal to idealistic young people who want to create a better world -- this is obvious. The main problem is: the first purpose of the Church is Salvation -- service is a means.

The most disturbing part of your article is the quote from the missionary and your comment. You say: "The danger is simple: the insight still implies there is something intrinsic to the tribe or the missionary that will lead them into a new place one could have guessed completely apart from God as future. It is still you, the missionary, together with them, young people, on the way to somewhere." I am appalled. You and I are both German. This is exactly what the good German people said in the 1930s when they became desperate with their situation. Even the possibility of Valhalla seemed better than what they had -- and they took a risk.

Can't you SEE? When you leave the Church Jesus has given us, and try to invent a new one, you will either fail or end up in pure evil. History has shown us this many times, and is showing us again.